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TO LIVE

TO LIVE I feel that my life flows like a slow river, that it has neither beginning nor end, as if ever I were born nor could exist
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THRESHOLD

THRESHOLD At which erogenous zone of this language, nomad, tattoos the star of absence? The poem, a shelter without roots, opens to the obscure appeal of the roads.
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HARVEST

HARVEST Your voice sounded enchanting on the phone that warm day in August, and I dreamed of grapevines and ripened grapes full of sugar and drunkenness. And I
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TSUNAMI

TSUNAMI The sea rose, broke down the door And came straight at you at your face Dragged underwater, you surrender Struggle immediately ceases And you drift along, with
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POEM OF THE MOON

POEM OF THE MOON Like your face in a dark room So exhausted and strange Hangs the Moon in the black sky. I saw her bright and white
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PSALM 1

PSALM 1 Blessed is the man who does not follow the slogans of the party, neither attends its meetings nor sits at the table with the gangsters nor
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